Steel Hearts
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: Daryl's just a simple, self-employed construction worker. And she's just the lady who's taken pity on him. But its more than just a convenient agreement. [Modern AU]


**Noxi: **I don't know what this is other than I had a small idea and here it begins. Not sure where to take this, but I'm just writing in the moment. Let me know what you feel about it.

**Disclaimer:** The Walking Dead and all affiliates belong to Kirkman and AMC.

**Warning:** Might be out of character a touch. Don't really give a shit though.

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><p><span>Innocence<br>

"_Wha - - - _I don't - - - **no**." He held the child out at arms length, wincing as she hung there, wide green eyes staring up at him like he was something foul. He probably was. He'd been working on the garage door for a few hours now and probably smelled like roadkill. For several weeks now he'd been fixing the broken garage door, instructed by the woman of the house to just _"make it workable_". He didn't think she understood that a garage door, when its been run through by a car, doesn't just get **fixed**. He didn't think she was used to someone else being around either. She'd watch him hesitantly with that _scared _look on her face. Like something bad was bound to happen. Maybe she wasn't used to men. Maybe she thought he smelled too. Maybe it was the way his hair hung long and unkempt around his ears, _dirty_.

Or maybe it was something else, something much deeper and darker than he wanted to dwell on.

Staring at the child, wondering where she'd gotten her eyes, he tried to ignore the growing panic in his gut. The lady's was blue and he hadn't seen a man around the place since he'd started here three weeks ago. Not that what he was doing was _legit _really. He did work on the side, for whatever he could get. Usually, nobody ever hired him cause he wasn't affiliated with any business and he wasn't insured. He'd assure them until he was blue in the face that there wouldn't be no problems and even if there had been, he wasn't gonna sue or nothing. But nobody cared. The fact that he _looked _like he was from the wrong side of town probably did the most damage.

For some reason, this lady had taken him on though. One look was all she seemed to need before nodding silently and showing him the damage.

He was impressed. Whoever had destroyed the door had done a fine job of it. He'd have plenty of work and he'd make a decent buck. He wasn't gonna complain.

Until he spent more than a few hours there and noticed how little the woman actually left and how secluded she was. He thought _he _was bad. She was near worse. She hardly left the house, and when she did it was for what she needed. Nobody ever came over and he hadn't seen a man once. And he was there pretty damn often. The only time he saw her pinched expression change was when she didn't know he was looking and she was with the baby. Her face morphed into something he'd never expected - - - _pleasant_.

He shifted the girl, getting a good grip on her, his lip curling with the process. She was soft and squishy and _alive_. A fucking baby in his hands. Merle would have shit a brick and then hit him over the head with it if he knew.

The girl's lip turned up, as if she'd eaten something sour and the panic turned to a boil as he glanced around quickly for a way to make it stop before it even started.

"No no no no no," he murmured, legs shaking anxiously. He bobbed on his toes, biting his lip, before he saw something that _might_ help. He pulled her close, pressed the girl to his stomach, one hand flat along her belly, firmly held against him, and reached over and picked up the cheap, battered wind spinner that he'd, for some fucking reason, kept in his toolbox over the years.

He refused to let himself think it was because it was the only gift Merle had ever given him in his entire life.

He held out the multi-colored plastic spinning toy and waited on bated breath until she reached out hesitantly and grasped the stick in her tiny, delicate fingers. He swallowed nervously, watching the top of her small, blonde head until she reached up with her other hand and tentatively brushed the spinner. She jerked, her little body spasming hard for something so small and he couldn't breathe as the spinner spun and the silence was deafening. And then, she **laughed.**

Shallow and bubbling, innocent and clear, like an untouched river-brook babbling in the noon sunlight. She arched back to look up at him, those wide, little eyes staring up at him, mouth popped open in wonder, like _he _was the new toy and she was fascinated. He swallowed the rock in his throat and attempted to breathe. It was perfectly _beautiful_ in the way he didn't know what that word meant exactly but could only apply it to the things he couldn't describe and made him feel _whole _inside.

The girl returned to the toy, flicking it with her fingers, watching as the bright colors spun in the twinkling sunlight, reflecting a dim light back at her, giggling like she wouldn't be able to catch her breath. She wiggled in his arms, the laughter rippling over his skin, until the nerves swarmed him again and he was _sure _he was going to drop her.

"- - - _Ma'am_," he stuttered nervously, unsure, never having really talked to her before, on account of all they had to do was agree to some terms, unable to call her by _name_. He set his other hand flat against the child's stomach, pressing her more firmly to his stomach, hoping it would also pin down the unexpected fluttering that had started at the pit and was working its way up. He stared anxiously down at the top of her head, and feared he was going to break the one thing in the world that deserved _love_.

He wasn't _made _for this.

His chest rose and fell too fast for him to think about how he was the only one in this situation who was fucking scared. Not until he looked up and saw the woman staring at them, her own blue eyes wide with fascination as she stared at her daughter, her lips trembling fiercely, water glossing over her eyes, and the barest hint of a smile lifting her lips.

And for the second time in one day, probably in his entire life, for this precise _moment_, he was a loss for words, his breath swept from his lungs, and he was _whole _again.

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><p><strong>AN**: I hope you enjoyed this little piece. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.


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